


Fête de Noël

by Gairid



Series: Odyssey [5]
Category: Vampire Chronicles - All Media Types, Vampire Chronicles - Anne Rice
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-23
Updated: 2010-10-29
Packaged: 2017-10-12 20:29:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 16,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/128735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gairid/pseuds/Gairid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lestat and Louis host a Christmas party.</p><p>This fic is on AO3 complete--I don't know why, but one chapter (4?) did not show up like the rest of them did, but you can see all seven chapters when reading the story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Early November

**(Brian)**

 

"I picked up the invitations from the calligrapher, Lestat. They're in that box on the shelf."

I was seated at his large desk with an array of catering brochures spread before me and the so-called guest list written in Lestat's scrawled hand. It was blackened with cross-outs and notes in the margins and looking at it was giving me a headache. I took a moment to enjoy the view as he sauntered to the shelves at the far end of the office.

Louis entered the room with the Sunday edition of the New York Times under his arm. He nodded absently to me and went to sit in his accustomed chair by the small fireplace. He wore a confused array of different articles of Lestat's clothing, most noticeably the ragged Metallica 'Bitch' T-shirt and a pair of cerise silk drawstring pants.

"Louis, the invitations are here." Lestat announced as he opened the box.

"Do you like them, love?" Louis opened his newspaper. "Tell me again when the party is."

"They'll do." Lestat said, eyeing them critically. "The party is December the twenty-first."

"Ah, _oui_." Louis looked at me over the paper. "You will put these in the post soon, Brian? People should have enough time to make their holiday plans." He raised the paper again.

"As soon as the guest list is finalized." I told him. I'd gone back to perusing it, trying to make sense of the intaglio of Lestat's notes. Lestat picked up the menu he'd tentatively agreed upon the night before and perched himself on the corner of the desk.

"You know, Brian, I think there should be more desserts. _Petits fours_ , perhaps, like these." he tapped the glossy brochure with his fingernail. "Tiramisu? Ah. Bananas Foster. Louis, darling, you'd like that--they light it on fire you know."

"Mmmhmm." Louis said from behind the paper.

"Lestat, there needs to be more than just desserts. People will expect to be properly fed—didn't you want this to be a _Reveillon_ sort of meal?"

He looked at me indulgently as though I were an idiot child and I had to smile.

"I like the look of this." he pointed at the photo of a Key Lime Mousse Cake. "With the sliced limes around the top. I never tasted a lime." he said, looking vaguely at the rain-spattered window. Louis dropped the paper and looked at Lestat, perhaps hearing a note of wistfulness in his voice. "I tasted oranges when I first went to Paris. When I had the money I would buy them. They were so sweet—so good."

"Limes are tart." Louis told him. His eyes were soft. "Or so I remember. Perhaps you might take Brian's suggestion as to the eating habits of mortals, 'Stat? He would be more inclined to know what they would like to eat."

I sat back, relieved at the help. It would have taken me a lot more time to convince Lestat that though the desserts had definite eye appeal something more substantial might be in order.

"Take another look at the entrees, Lestat." I coaxed.

He took the pro-offered lists from me, drawing his legs up so that he was sitting cross-legged on the desk and knocking off the tray that held his personal mail.

"Did you know, Lestat that the Leonid meteor showers will not be viewed this closely again for another thirty years?" Louis said.

"Didn't they say that the last time?" Lestat asked. He watched alertly in case Louis should drop the paper and show his face. As it was only the top of his dark head was visible. After a moment he went back to the menus. "You know Brian, mortals would not be so concerned with what they had to eat if they didn't have so damned many choices."

"It's cyclical, my love." Louis said, referring to his meteor shower article. I rolled back in the chair with the feeling that it was going to be one of those nights where I'd have to work to get any decisions out of Lestat. This was confirmed at Louis' next question. "Who have you decided to invite?"

Lestat abandoned his desultory perusal of the menus in favor of this question. I looked back at the list and picked up the pencil once again.

"You don't want to invite your mother?" I asked him. Her name was conspicuously absent from the list.

"Do as you like, my love." Louis said, folding the paper neatly and placing it on the table beside his chair.

"We have very little to say to one another, Brian." Lestat said crisply. I nodded and another name caught my eye.

"This one can't come. He's dead." I muttered to myself, crossing out another name

"Who will be attending on your arm, Brian?" Louis asked me. He sounded vaguely interested. I'd pulled a fresh sheet of paper and begun writing the remaining names on it, Lestat craning around to read what I was writing.

"I haven't decided yet." I told him absently

"Oh come now. Surely there is someone you know that you would like to bring. We know you don't spend all your nights alone." He gestured to his ear.

"No." I said, unfazed. "But that doesn't mean I want to bring any of them here."

"Is there something offensive here, Brian? Some reason you don't wish to bring one of your paramours to this place?"

"You know that's not what I meant." I glanced up at him.

"Did you say that no one eats meat anymore? Because I know you do. The seared smell of it is horrid." Lestat said.

"Some people don't eat meat. Chicken would be good. Cocktail shrimp." I showed Lestat one of the menus. "A raw bar. Oysters are in season, nice and succulent. And they offer a sushi bar. I'll need to find out if the chef is any good."

"What about pasta salad?" Lestat asked, pleased with himself for thinking of it. "Remember, Louis when we went to the supermarket? They had many of them in a refrigerated case. They looked good." Lestat smiled hopefully.

"Sure. Pasta salads are good. A big green salad, too."

" _Mais oui_. Call this one, then Brian. We will meet with them as soon as possible."

"The supermarket smelt of rotting flesh." Louis remarked.

"So does the Quarter, Louis. I wonder why the supermarket bothers you more."

I sat back, waiting again. Such conversations could take time.

"The concentration factor." Louis stated firmly. "Does this house smell so to you?

"No, indeed." Lestat said, sliding from the desk and going to where Louis sat. He stood behind the chair and placed his hands on Louis's shoulders. "The house smells pleasantly of old wood. And of you and I, my love."

"And?"

"Perhaps the breeze from the River is a tad pungent. Do you smell something Louis?" Lestat asked curiously.

Lestat. You're answering a question with a question." Louis chided gently. Answering a question with a question was a pet peeve of Louis'; I tried not to do it, but his questions were often so roundabout that it was easy to forget and do it anyway. He turned his head. "And you. Brian. What do you smell?" Louis asked. One of his hands crept up to cover Lestat's.

"Beeswax. Murphy's Oil Soap. You two." I said, propping my chin in one hand.

"Rotting flesh?"

"No, Louis." I said, at last realizing the point of his questions. "Would you rather I forgo the chicken?"

"I would appreciate it." he said. "The shrimp will be bad enough, I'm thinking, though I don't mind oysters, since they are usually quite fresh. I loved them when I was mortal."

"If it's warm enough, I'll see it served on the balcony or the in courtyard." I told him. The guest list is not very long, so it wouldn't be that much anyway. At this time, it appears that everyone on the list will be eating food, however. And I expect it will be something less than a traditional _Reveillon_ if we are foregoing most meat."

"Not at all. There will be all manner of seafood. Please read the list, Brian." Louis said. He tilted his head back and Lestat leaned over to press a kiss to his mouth. As usual I was caught up in the picture they presented.

" _Attendez-vous_." Louis said, still gazing upward into Lestat's eyes. I picked up my revised list.

"Madame Simone Debreuil and guest." I read.

"Madame Debreuil will be attending alone, Brian. She will be a guest here in the house for several days at least." Lestat said. I nodded and crossed off the 'guest' beside Madame's name.

"Shall I arrange for the jet?"

"Not necessary. She prefers to fly commercially, though she should have a car at the airport here of course."

I noted it, and went on with the list.

"Persephone Le Compte and guest. Amanda Beausoleil and guest. Mr. and Mrs. Glaise Gibeault. Mrs. Barbara Hughes. Mr. Gerald Blancmange and guest. Mr. & Mrs. Thomas Fournier with Miss Julia Fournier and Miss Chantelle Moore. Miss Jeanette Reynolds and guest."

I looked at Louis.

"Will Ms.Reynolds be flying commercially as well, Louis?"

"Doubtless." Louis said. "If she accepts the invitation she will assuredly refuse the offer of the jet. Is that all?"

"So far." I said.

"Perhaps we should invite the Mayor." Lestat said with a hard little grin. Louis shuddered. "No politicians. The lawyers are quite enough."

"It's an interesting mix of people." I said, thoughtfully.

"Perhaps we should invite the priest?" Louis asked suddenly.

Lestat had gone to open the French doors to the narrow balcony off his office. He stopped and looked back at Louis. "The pastor of St. Louis's?"

"What?" Louis asked.

"You wish to invite the pastor of St. Louis's?" Lestat repeated. He sounded as perplexed as I felt. I kept my mouth shut.

"No, of course not" Louis said deprecatingly. "Santino. We have not seen him in a very long while. Do you think he would like to attend?"

Lestat opened the doors and a gust of rain swept in, scattering papers across the floor.

" _Peut-être_." Lestat said, musingly.

"Santino?" I asked. I found myself once again playing with the coin I wore on a chain around my neck. Louis had not gotten around to telling me the story behind it. "Do you have an address for him?"

"I'll get back to you on that one." Lestat said. He stepped out into the rain, turning his face up in enjoyment. I watched him for several minutes and then turned around to look at Louis. His eyes were on his love, his Lestat.

"I will address the envelopes myself, Brian." Louis said. His eyes never left Lestat. "I may want to enclose a personal note in some of them."

"Of course." I said. "I'll leave you a list with the names and addresses--." My voice trailed off. Louis was no longer paying any attention and I knew there would be no more talk about the party this evening.

 

NEXT: Invitations Received


	2. Invitations Received

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Invitations to the Christmas party received and reacted to.

  
**~Thomas & Patrice Fournier~**  
Invitation Received

"I suppose we'll have to make an appearance." Tom Fournier glanced at the ornate invitation. When Patrice had given it to him, he'd thought at first it was an invitation to a wedding.

"Of course we will. We won't have to stay long if that's what you are worried about. We have another party that same night—the Gallagher's." 

"What night is it?" Tom asked. He had his Blackberry out. Patrice eyed it hatefully.

"The twenty-first."

"We're supposed to show at the Galindo's that night, too."

Patrice made no comment but Tom made note of her pursed lips. "Something to say, Pat?" he asked silkily.

"No." she said, avoiding his eyes.

"Just like old times, hey? Remember, Pat? We were regular party animals."

Patrice smiled at him dutifully and he did not fail to notice that the smile never touched her eyes. "We sure were."

  
**  
~Julia Fournier and Chantelle Moore~**  
Invitation Received

"Something came in the mail for you today." Chantelle handed the child the invitation, smiling as Julia turned the envelope over in her hands.

"It's for you, too." Julia said. She opened the envelope carefully. "It's an invitation Christmas party at Uncle Louis's! Look!"

"Isn't it nice that they invited you?" Chantelle asked, smiling.

"Both of us! What's gala?" Julia asked.

"It means fancy—it means we should wear our prettiest party clothes."

"Are Mama and Daddy going?"

"I'm sure they are."

"You like Uncle Louis, don't you?" Julia asked.

"Of course I do, honey." Chantelle said, suppressing a small shiver. At least Brian would be there, she thought to herself.

"We should bring a Christmas present."

"I think that would be nice." Chantelle agreed.

"I'll draw a picture. Pencil, I think."

"I know your...uncle will love that."

Chantelle watched Julia slide the invitation back in the envelope carefully, placing it on her dresser. In the years that had passed since Louis had come into Julia's life, she'd come to realize that he was good for the child; he made her feel safe and that was worth all the discomfort she felt in his presence. He was dangerous and she knew it without a doubt. 

I'm going to start working on it today." Julia said.

"Homework first, baby. You know the rules."

Julia fetched a huge sigh but she smiled as she did it. "After supper, then." She sat down at her desk to resume her reading assignment.

"Do you need me to help you with anything?" Chantelle asked. 

"Maybe you can check my math paper?" Julia rummaged under her books and drew it forth, somewhat wrinkled, but all in once piece. Chantelle took it and crossed the room to the chair by the window. She had become absorbed in checking Julia's work when Julia spoke.

"He'd never hurt me. You can believe that." Her voice was soft and she didn't look up, so Chantelle didn't immediately reply. Her skin had broken out in gooseflesh as it did whenever Julia spoke in what Chantelle had come to think of as her other voice. After a moment she answered the girl.

"I know, baby."

  
**~Jeanette Reynolds~**  
Invitation Received

Jeanette let herself into her dark apartment, leaving her small suitcase by the door for later unpacking and placing her camera bag on her desk. The answering machine winked redly in the dark but she passed the baleful little eye without a second glance. 

It was likely another frantic message from Rico, the photography editor of the magazine she worked for. She'd ignored his calls for the last six hours of her time in New York, first engrossed in the shoot at the Metropolitan Museum of Art and then squeaking into LaGuardia with barely enough time to make her flight. She'd shut the phone off after a while, sick of hearing the little signature trill and knowing it would be his name every single damned time.

She leaned and switched the reading lamp on and saw a stack of mail on the little table. Smiling to herself, Jeanette leaned forward and began rummaging through the catalogs and bills. Dear Katie, her friend since forever, always came through, swooping in to water the plants on the window and to bring Trilby, Jeanette's aging cat, to stay at her own neat little apartment so they could keep each other company. 

One of the envelopes caught her eye, rich creamy vellum and unmistakable, graceful script. Something from Louis. It was weeks early for his Christmas card and she'd already received a birthday gift and card from him in early October. The envelope looked formal, but then anything she received from him looked formal. Always elegant and always there just when she seemed to need something to remind her that not everything in the world raced by at breakneck speed.

She turned the envelope over in her hands, feeling the weight of it and running the pad of her finger over the hardened red sealing wax that trapped a smooth bit of satin ribbon beneath it. More fine cursive stamped into the wax, the initials LdPdL cunningly wrought so they would fit within the oval of the stamp. She looked again at the front of the envelope. The return address was familiar to her, though she had never yet visited him there. Louis had always come to her.

Jeanette leaned back, the letter held loosely in her hand. The first time she'd seen Louis she was seven years old, lying in a hospital bed, tearlessly terrified because her mother and father were not allowed to stay the night with her. Daddy had left her with a stuffed dog. The dog was no match for her beloved Jemmyrabbit, but she held onto it anyway, eking what little comfort she could from it. She was afraid to cry because the nurse had told her if she felt pain she could have another shot. The idea of another needle frightened her more than anything else and so she lay in the bed, rigid and in pain, wishing for her mother and for Jemmyrabbit with her eyes squeezed tightly shut.

"Is this who you are looking for?"

The voice had been so soft that at first Jeanette was certain she had made it up in her head. She opened her eyes and saw that there was someone standing by her bed. She could see him in the light coming in from the corridor, a tall man with a face that looked like the angel over the altar at church. He was holding Jemmyrabbit out to her.

"Jemmyrabbit!" she reached for the battered toy and winced at the pain in her back and her broken leg, swaying in its cradle of confusing wires and pulleys. 

"Try not to move, _chérie_." The man said, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder and putting Jemmyrabbit on her chest. She hugged the rabbit tightly.

"My name isn't Sherry, it's Jeanette. Are you the doctor? Did my daddy bring Jemmy for me?"

"No, I am not the doctor, sweetheart, but I am here to see that you are not afraid. What happened to you today?"

He drew the chair closer to her bed and smiled at her. She had the strangest feeling that she knew him. Maybe he was one of her cousins or something.

"I got hit by a car." she told him. "I looked both ways when I left Marjorie's house but I didn't see it coming. I heard a noise and then when I woke up I was here and my mommy was crying. I don't remember the car hitting me, but they told me that's what happened." Her eyes welled with tears and she hugged Jemmyrabbit tighter as she told him the story. Louis leaned to her, taking her hand.

"Don't cry, little one. No one is angry with you." Jeannette looked into his eyes and after a moment she felt sleepy and the pain in her leg seemed far away.

"What's your name again?"

"I am Louis." The man smiled at her. His hair was black and shining and his green eyes were kind. 

"Do you know my Daddy?" 

"Yes, darling. I have known your family for a long time now."

"Thank you for bringing Jemmyrabbit." 

"You're welcome." Louis said. The child did something then that stirred his heart. Her left arm was wrapped about the stuffed toy, the other beside her soft, pink cheek. She ran the pad of her thumb over her fingers, starting with her pinky and progressing to the forefinger. She did not reverse the order, but repeated the action several times. 

" _Je pense que tu es fatiguée, ma belle_." He slipped into French, enchanted with the little girl and the small movement of her fingers. It had been familiar to him once, that little gesture. 

She smiled sleepily at him, not realizing that she understood him only because he was speaking in her mind, lulling her to sleep and helping her to damp the pain so that she did not need to fret about the dreaded 'shot'.

She'd fallen asleep soon after and the next morning her mother had been there but Louis was gone. When Jeanette told her about Louis, her mother told her no one could have been there after they had left, because of visiting hours. "It must have been the medicine that made you think so. Or maybe one of the doctors." When Jeanette had persisted, asking her mother how Jemmyrabbit had gotten there, her mother told her she was getting a headache. 

Jeanette fell asleep on her couch as she had that night in the hospital, thinking about Louis' softly accented voice and holding the envelope to her chest as she'd once held Jemmyrabbit.

  
**~Gerald R. Blancmange, Esq.~**  
Invitation Received

Gerry sat at his desk, staring at the invitation. It was from them--from him. Lestat. Years had passed, right down to the month and Gerry had reconciled himself to the fact that he'd been a two-night stand and likely lucky to have come away alive. He had nothing to back the last thought up with, of course.

A Christmas party. He turned it over in his hands, mind hurtling along. A party and then what? Or just a party. Probably just a party. Gerald Blancmange and guest? Who would he take with him?

"No one, that's who." he muttered. He had received the invitation at the office so it was likely that his uncle would receive one and also be attending. It wouldn't do for him to show up with a guy on his arm. Glaise was clear on what he thought of fags. Glaise Gibeault bit his tongue when he dealt with Monsieur de Lioncourt and his beautiful lover, oh yes, because money spoke in tones loud and clear, but that didn't mean he would look kindly on Gerry showing up at their home with one of his fag friends in tow.

Should he bring a woman? Maybe Perry. She had probably received an invitation of her own, of course. Who else would be there? Anything was possible with those two. The prospect of being near them in their home was more than enough for Gerry, but there was nothing wrong with rubbing elbows with the right kind of people, either. There was a small card enclosed with the invitation, stating simply RSVP with a telephone number. 

Too soon to call, having just received it. It would be Brian he would speak to, probably. Handsome Brian who seemed to be Lestat's liaison for all things social including the care (and feeding?) of Monsieur Pointe du Lac in Lestat's absence. He wondered if Brian would be attending the party or seeing to things. Both, probably. He was very protective of them, Gerry knew. He saw Brian around often and spoke to him whenever the opportunity presented itself. Brian was affable enough, but if Gerry made even the slightest mention of either Lestat or Louis he clammed up tight. 

He rose to go to across the hall to Perry's office with the intention of finding out if she had received an invitation. Her lunch was at her elbow, the usual yogurt and banana. She was on the phone.

"Brian? Hi. It's Perry. Fine, thanks. What about you?"

Gerry leaned in his doorway, listening.

"Mmmhmm. I got it yesterday." She paused, listening, and then laughed. "Of course I'll be there. No…alone. Don't you start, now. There's no one I can think of that I feel like bringing with me, that's all. What? Oh. Yes, the messenger brought them this morning. Should be no problems though, you know PdL Enterprises is always prioritized, so--"

Gerry went back into his office, slightly disgruntled, even though he'd guessed she would also be invited; since she'd passed the bar, she'd been taking care of much of the Pointe du Lac business at Monsieur's request, of course. He glanced at the invitation again. Gala attire? Gala? Might be time to do a little shopping.

NEXT: More Invitations Received


	3. More Invitations Received

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More invitations received and reacted to.

**~Amanda Jean Beausoleil~**  
Invitation Received

 

Amanda was bored. It was nearly the end of her shift and she'd already finished her cleaning routine, readying everything for the morning rush. All there was left was for Manny to shoo out the three drunken frat boys sitting across from where she leaned on the counter and poor old Ricky dozing on the settle near the Royal Street entrance. Malcolm, the owner, had told them repeatedly that he didn't want Ricky or others 'like him' hanging out on the settle all evening, but Amanda never had the heart to ask him to leave when it was raining like it was this evening. Bad enough he'd have to go out when CC's closed. She'd bought him a sweet roll and several cups of coffee since he'd come in and in return he'd dumped the trash for them and swept the back.

She could see someone outside the Royal Street door now, a wavering figure through the rain-lashed glass. She had a brief moment to hope that whoever it was would not wish for anything more complicated than a cup of regular coffee. The door opened and a gust of rain swept in but she noticed only the familiar grin and the wild mane of blond hair jeweled with rain.

"Hello, Amanda." Lestat brushed the wet tendrils of his hair back from his face and leaned on the counter. She glanced past him to the door. " 'Brad's not with me tonight." he told her with an impish grin.

"Never gonna let me live that down, are you, Blondie?" she said, wrinkling her nose.

He shrugged one shoulder and straightened up from the counter. They had come in one night when she had first begun working nights at the coffeehouse, and she'd been immediately smitten by Louis. Lestat had whispered to her that the object of her infatuation was his friend Brad, and they'd had an enormous amount of fun teasing her about it ever since.

"Can I get you something? Jasmine tea?" she asked.

"No, _chérie_. I just stopped in to give this to you. We didn't know your address and there is no phone listing for you." Lestat handed her an envelope and she took it from him, running her finger over the dollop of red sealing wax on the back. She looked at him questioningly.

"You shall have to open it to find out, _oui_? And now I must be on my way. Louis is waiting." He winked at her. " _Bon soir_ , Amanda."

"Good night." she said. He vanished out into the rainy street.

She didn't open the envelope until she got home an hour or so later. Her roommate was already asleep and so she sat down on the tired living room sofa and switched on the lamp. The envelope was heavy, reminding her of her sister's wedding invitation. She opened it and read the invitation and Louis' brief hand-lettered missive, her heartbeat picking up as she did so. An invitation to their home for a party! Their home.

She knew them only casually, from their stops into the coffeehouse as they meandered to or from their home two blocks up. Since the first night when she'd so clumsily come on to Louis she'd come to look forward to their visits. They were invariably charming and wickedly entertaining, showing up at times singly but, more often than not, they came together and she wondered now how she could ever have thought that they were 'just friends'. Wishful thinking, maybe.

Perry knew them, too. Perry LeCompte who she'd also met because Perry had a thing for espresso when she put in fourteen-hour days at the law firm where she worked over on Prytania. They'd gotten to know each other gradually and one evening Perry had suggested they go see a movie on Amanda's night off sometime. They did, and they found out they got along well, in spite of the differences that had at first made Amanda feel that she would have no idea what she would say to someone as polished and educated as Perry. It was Perry who'd encouraged her to go to school, take a few classes a week, and Amanda had begun to feel that she wouldn't always have to live with a roommate. Kelly made her insane because she couldn't seem to do the simplest thing, like wash up her own dishes, or empty the cat litter once in a while.

She and Perry had taken to going out once or twice a week, or Amanda would go and they would watch movies at Perry's neat flat on St. Charles. Over the course of a few years they had become good friends. Back when they had first begun this pattern, they were drinking wine and sputtering laughter over an early Brad Pitt film in which Brad's pretty boy face was obscured by a black leather mask for most of the movie, Amanda brought up the two gorgeous guys that stopped in at CC's now and then.

"Lestat?" Perry asked her, when Amanda mentioned his name.

"Yeah. He told me Louis' name was 'Brad'. I made such a fool of myself. I didn't get that they were, you know, together."

"I know them." Perry confided. "They're clients at the firm I work for."

Now, sitting on the tatty couch with the elegant invitation in her hand, Amanda wondered if Perry had received an invitation as well. She hoped so; she was ill at ease with the idea of going to a formal party like this on her own. The invitation indicated that she could bring a guest but she had no one special in her life at the moment. If Perry were going, she'd feel much easier about it.

She put the invitation carefully back into the envelope and went into her room, Kelly's two cats padding silently after her. She looked into the mirror over her bureaus and decided it was time she had a new haircut. She couldn't wait to talk to Perry in the morning.

 

~Santino~  
Invitation Received

 

Santino tucked the invitation back into its envelope and looked across the elegant room. The wide picture window framed an amazing view of the City of Angels.

"Would you like to attend a party with me?"

"Anyone I know?" The young man was quite beautiful; gilded and refined and highly educated. He ornamented the chair that he sat in quite prettily, sipping at his martini.

"I don't believe so. The party will be held in New Orleans."

"Mardi Gras?" William laughed, his white teeth gleaming. "You're kidding, right?"

"Actually, no. This is a Christmas party, hosted by a couple you will no doubt find interesting."

"A couple of what? Fags like us?" William's smile did not touch his eyes.

"Americans do love their labels." Santino said dryly.

"I'm sure you had your own labels for such deviance back in the day."

"Why, yes. We called them 'sinners', I believe."

William finished his drink and moved gracefully across the room to where Santino sat. He leaned forward and kissed Santino lingeringly. "Bless me, Father." he whispered. His breath smelled of olives and juniper. Santino pulled the young man into his lap and stroked his hair, honey-gold and thick. William rolled his head back against Santino's shoulder, reaching past him to pick up the invitation. He slid it from the envelope and read it.

"I would be 'guest', I assume." he said.

"If you wish to come with me."

"Of course I do. I wouldn't pass up the chance to meet the famous Vampire Lestat."

"I was sure you wouldn't. I can hear the wheels turning in your mind already."

"Jealous?"

Santino snorted lightly. "There have been many like you before, William. Doubtless I would console myself with someone like you should you decide to leave. You are assuming, of course, that this is a step up on the ladder."

"You are jealous!"

"Hardly. You are also assuming that you would be irresistible to Lestat." Santino laughed. He found William to be delightful on multiple levels.

"I think no such thing. I really wish you wouldn't do that. It's none of your business what I am thinking." William said crossly. He rose from Santino's lap and went to pour himself another drink.

"Don't be so petulant. Shall I call and tell them we will attend?"

William shrugged.

"Do what you want. I'll just sit here being petulant, shall I?"

Santino smiled indulgently at him and after a moment William put the glass down and went back to him, picking the phone up as he went.

"Nothing ever gets to you does it?" William asked him. "You never get rattled. It's annoying."

"You wouldn't like to se me rattled." Santino told him, drawing him in for a kiss. William was slight, his body small and compact. He felt impossibly fragile to Santino.

"That's where you're wrong." William breathed. He tilted his head back invitingly and Santino drew his tongue slowly up the pulsing artery. He kissed William behind the ear.

"Don't say such things to me. You don't know what you are speaking of. You only think you do, _caro_."

He pierced the artery delicately and let Williams' blood rush into his mouth, enough so that he felt William go a little groggy. He took his mouth from the pulsing little wound and attended to it. He stood, holding William easily in his arms and placed him on the settee, removing the young man's clothing with gentle hands. William's eyes were wide and worshipful, all the cockiness gone from him.

The vampire punched in the number on the little enclosed card.

"Ah, Louis. Good evening."

His hand brushed William's flaccid cock. He'd taken a deal of blood and knew that it might be futile. No matter. He had other plans for his pet.

"Yes, I'm very well indeed, thank you. I am calling to accept your gracious invitation."

William moaned and Santino smiled a little as he felt some stirring under his hand. Once again he was surprised. So resilient, these humans.

"I will be bringing a guest. His name is William Allen. Yes. No, there's no need for that. We shall stay at the W. Please give Lestat my regards and we will see you in December. Good night Louis."

He thumbed the button on the phone and tossed it to the floor.

"And now, William, it's time." Santino said softly. William reached for him.

 

 **~Glaise Gibeault~**  
Invitation Received

"But, Glaise, we were invited to the Phillips on the twentieth. I already accepted the invitation." Kirsten Gibeault pointed out. Kirsten was Glaise Gibeault's third wife, the one called 'The Trophy'. She was twenty-three years his junior. Predictably, perhaps, she was a former aerobics instructor at the gym where Glaise went several times a week to keep himself trim.

"We will go to the Phillips's after we make an appearance, Kirsten. These are our most prestigious clients--I can hardly decline the invitation."

Kirsten was not averse to attending the party in question. Far from it, actually. The Phillips's were a stuffy old pair, but she wanted Glaise to know that she had a handle on their social calendar.

"Believe me Hon, I'm not crazy about going there, but business is business. Gerry has been invited and so has Persephone."

"Is she the one that has taken on most of the Pointe du Lac work? Kirsten looked at Glaise in the mirror, mascara wand poised.

Glaise looked pained. "Yes. He has always been fond of her."

"I thought he was gay."

"I don't think he's attracted to her sexually, though God only knows. He's a strange one. It seems that he enjoys talking to her. When he accompanies Lioncourt he barely seems to know where he is, but he'll always stop and pass some time with her."

Kirsten went back to applying her makeup. She and Glaise were going to dinner with another couple. "Ambitious girl, very clever. She began at the firm as a secretary when she was just a kid."

Kirsten watched him surreptitiously in the mirror, looking for clues in his handsome, craggy face. She was always on the alert for signs of his straying. She wasn't foolish enough to think he'd keep it in his pants if he had half a chance someplace.

"Is anyone else going from the office?" she asked casually.

"Not that I know of. I hope it doesn't turn out to be Faggot Heaven there."

"Glaise!" Kirsten giggled. "Is that anyway to talk about your best clients? And your nephew?" She liked turning that particular screw. It drove him crazy. "Anyway, you said we wouldn't be there long. I'm sure you won't be groped by too many men."

"Very funny." he said. He leaned over her, looking at her in the mirror and cupping one of her beautifully enhanced breasts covetously. She leaned back, looking up at him.

"Don't be so stuffy, Glaise. It's a Christmas party, isn't it? It doesn't say anything about an orgy. "

"You've never seen those two together." he said, shuddering distastefully. "Last time they came to the office I thought they were going to go to town on Barbara's desk."

"Poor baby." Kirsten said, with another giggle. "The things you have to put up with. Now stop that." she batted playfully at his hand. "We're meeting Kim and Paul in less than a half an hour and you aren't even dressed."

He let go of her reluctantly.

"I'll call tomorrow and let them know we'll be there." she told him.

He nodded. She was right. The things he had to put up with. Still, it was a point of honor in a way. He had a sense of pride in his firm; it had been a part of New Orleans history for over two hundred years. The Pointe du Lac name figured in hundreds of records, as did the name Lioncourt. Kirsten didn't know this. Very few people did.

The things he had to put up with.

 

 **~Persephone LeCompte~**  
Invitation Received

 

Perry's invitation sat on the middle of her desk, the graceful script and the creamy, textured envelope at odds with the confused clutter around it. Her computer and her desk were always in chaos, though Perry knew more or less where to lay her hands on things at any given time. The invitation stood alone, though, a beautiful thing surrounded by the most ordinary trappings.

Like the ones who sent it, Perry thought. She could see it from where she sat across the room, a glass of wine as yet untouched, but near to hand.

Amanda had called her at work, keen to share her news and Perry had to smile at her excitement. They'd talked about it for several minutes and all the while Perry knew that Gerry was in his office, ears enlarging by the moment as he listened, trying to figure out who she was speaking to. Who else had gotten one of the compelling, pretty envelopes. He didn't quite have the cojones to come right out and ask her, so she never said a word to him about it.

Alone in the quiet of her flat, though, she'd begun to wonder about the party. Gerry was invited and Amanda. There was a juxtaposition right there, though she was non-judgmental about it herself. Glaise and his wife. It was rumored that Kirsten did not have two brain cells to rub together, but Perry withheld her judgment. Breast implants did not necessarily mean an empty head after all and on the occasions she'd spoken to Kirsten she had not come across as brainless. Quite the opposite, actually.

Who else would be there? Others like them? It seemed probable. She had not posted anything to the online watchers group, feeling that it was a personal thing now and to do so seemed somehow wrong. She'd been quiet on that board for some time now, posting only casual sightings, since they had become commonplace among those who lived in the specific locales the immortal ones had chosen to occupy. More and more she felt like her participation on the board was somehow going to compromise her link, such as it was, with them--with Louis.

Shadowy Louis and his hair like black, beautiful sin and his gleaming eyes, sharp when Lestat was near him, and somewhat vague when he was not. Lestat could and did blend in well enough when he tried and Perry understood he could fool the eye, make the humans around him not notice his 'otherness'. Louis though--Louis never bothered to try and that somehow made him more seductive, more irresistible. Perry swallowed half the glass of wine, crisp and sweet, and set the glass back down. Whatever happened, she was fairly certain that it was going to be a very interesting affair.

 

 **~Simone Debreuil~**  
Invitation Received

 

"Those two beautiful men."

Simone was seated at her kitchen table, the ubiquitous cats watching her intently as she spoke aloud, the invitation in her hand. She scratched L'Orange, the big tom, behind his ragged left ear.

"What do you think, eh? Will you miss me if I am away for awhile?" The cat purred under her hand, twisting blissfully.

Simone had grown tired of late, her eighty-nine years pulling at the strings of her muscles, knotting the joints in her fingers. She'd had beautiful, long hands as a girl. She looked at them now. Not bad today; very little swelling since the weather had been dry and not too cold. A week or two in New Orleans would be a welcome thing, just what she needed to regain her energy. It would be good to see them again, golden Lestat and his beautiful Louis. Not everyone grew old. The thought gave her a modicum of comfort.

Simone rose stiffly from her chair and glanced balefully at the cane that was near to hand and after a moment's consideration she walked past it without another look. Her first steps were faltering, but strengthened as she moved and the stiffness eased. She took the little remote phone off the base and walked with it to the window to look out across the Seine at her beloved city.

Unlike many older people, Simone embraced technology. She thumbed the menu on the phone, found Louis' name and pressed the corresponding number for the speed dial.

"Hello?"

Simone realized she had been holding her breath like a foolish schoolgirl. She exhaled in a rush, nearly breaking into rusty laughter at her reactions. She felt slightly disappointed that it was not Louis that had answered the phone.

" _'Allo Brian… ça va_ ?"

" _Madame Debreuil! Tres bien, merci_."

"English is fine, _chéri_." she told him. "Is Louis there, please?"

"Oh--no, Madame. He and Lestat are out for the evening. You are calling about the party, I hope?"

"Ah, _oui_. Yes. And if you keep calling me Madame, I shall beat you with my new stick, should I decide to bring it."

He laughed and she had to smile at the easy sound of it.

"I guess I asked for that. Does that mean you are planning to attend?"

"I would not miss it." Simone said. She was surprised at the sudden sting of tears.

"They will be very pleased. Would you like me to make the arrangements for you?"

"I would appreciate that mon cher. Any day is fine, my calendar is free, I assure you. A commercial flight will do." she said, before he could offer the jet.

"Louis knew you would say that." Brian said with a soft chuckle.

She spoke with him for a few minutes more and then rang off with his assurances that he would call her in a few days with the itinerary. She placed the phone back on its base and went to the mirror.

Her face was lined, seamed like an apple sitting in a basket far longer than it should have lasted. Her hair was white, cut sensibly short and thinning on her fragile skull. At one time her hair had been as black as Louis' hair. She had green eyes as well and they were lively still, though they were not the arresting green that his eyes were. They were darker and shot through with flecks of gold and brown. Her eyes still looked the same as they always had and it was a wonder to her that the rest of her had changed so much.

"You'll need to buy yourself something elegant to wear, you scary old thing, to distract the eye!" Simone laughed at her image and rapped once on the glass. "Who let you in I wonder, sneaky old woman?"

She went into her front room and turned the radio on, keeping the volume low. She looked again at the invitation, written so beautifully with an old fashioned ink-pen. It was Louis' fine hand and the words were his as well, elegant French, formal but with a warmth that she could feel. She was touched that he had written it himself.

"I'm lucky that you found me." she whispered, "You and that audacious lover of yours. Dear Lestat…and dearest Louis." After a while she nodded off, sitting in the chair with the orange tom in her lap.

NEXT: Preparations and a Watery Interlude


	4. Preparations and a Watery Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Preparations for the upcoming party continue; Lestat and Louis have an amorous interlude.

**~Brian~**

I let myself into the flat in the late afternoon. It seemed that my world had narrowed to party preparations with daily lists from Lestat on what he wished me to follow up on. A morning spent with Annie, one of the floral designers at Flora Savage up the street had been less painful than I'd thought it might be; she understood Lestat's extravagant tastes and his "bigger is better" philosophy. Annie was familiar with the layout of the flat as well and I left the little shop knowing I had one less thing to worry about. Annie did the weekly arrangements for the flat and I knew she'd come through.

I went to Lestat's office and listened to his voice mail. There were at least thirty of them, many of them superfluous and I noted the numbers that were necessary, clearing the rest. The flat was chilly and I went into the hall to adjust the air conditioning. Their bedroom door was ajar and so, drawn as I so often am, I went to take a quick look.

Pillar candles flickered, but the mussed bed was empty; likewise the floor. I went in and looked into the walk-in closet. Also empty. I reasoned that they must have moved to one of the guest bedrooms and moved about the room, pinching out the candles. That was when I heard the dripping in the bathroom. Curious, I went in.

They were in there. More flickering candlelight. They'd been caught by the dawn it seemed, relaxing together in the huge marble tub. Lestat had his back against the tub and before him Louis reclined against his chest. The ends of Louis' black hair floated in the still water, adhering in snaky, dark tendrils to Lestat's golden skin and on his own shoulders. The water just reached the pale rose of his nipples, peaked and enticing, with Lestat's hand resting just below the clear water. I felt a squirt of saliva in my mouth and I drew my tongue across my lips.

I went up the two steps and dipped my fingers in the water by the faucet near their feet. The water was cold and though I didn't think this affected them at all in their sleeping state, I knew they'd be acutely uncomfortable when they woke up. I flipped the drain open and waited as the water left the tub and when I glanced up I was distinctly unnerved by the eerie gleam of Lestat's slitted eyes. I didn't think they'd been open at all when I'd come in. I watched, frozen for several moments but there was no movement so I figured I was safe enough.

When the water had drained out completely, I closed it again and turned on the hot water. The thermostat on their water heater went up to 180 degrees, more than enough to scald human skin. If you take a shower in their house you have to be very careful. I watched the water cover them--it crept up up, steaming, around their twined limbs. The slitted gleam of Lestat's eyes was gone, the lids closed fully as though the heat had soothed him. The mirrored wall was wavering mist, their reflections and mine hazed and indistinct. I felt sweat breaking on my upper lip, across my back and wondered vaguely if it was from the heat of the room or just looking at them. When the monstrous tub was filled at last, I turned off the water and made sure the heat lamps in the ceiling were on when I left the room.

In their dim bedroom, I exhaled, the coolness helping to steady my rubbery limbs. All this time and still there are so many aspects that they present that leave me weak and humbled. I registered the trilling of the phone through my fogged brain and I left their room, closing the door behind me.

It was my line blinking and I got it before the caller decided to hang up.

"Hello?"

"Brian! Where the hell were you? The phone rang like fifty times. And your cell's off."

"John?" I was genuinely pleased. "I didn't hear the phone. I was in the bathroom." True enough. "I wondered where you'd got to."

"Been pulling a lot of overtime. You know how it is. You okay?"

"Sure. Great. Hey, listen—think you could get a night off near Christmas?"

 

 **Watery Interlude**   
~Louis~

I came awake slowly, soothed by liquid heat and Lestat's heart beating steadily against my back. I could feel his hand splayed over my ribs, thumb circling slowly.

"Not the best place to have fallen asleep." I remarked. My eyes were still closed.

"Could be worse." Lestat said. I felt the brush of his lips on the side of my head.

"You mean if Brian didn't do his daily rounds?" I asked lightly.

"Just so." His fingers brushed my nipple. "His voyeur's instincts often lead to our waking up a little more comfortable."

"You'll get no argument from me. We'd be frozen right through by this time." I turned in his arms and a wave of steaming water sloshed out of the tub. How beautiful he looked with his hair a tumbled mass of gold, curling in the moist heat. He smiled lazily at me, rubbing his nose against mine.

"What are you staring at? I'm waiting for my kiss, Louis." His hand snaked up my back and he cupped the back of my head, pulling me into a lingering kiss. We sank beneath the water, bodies twisting and writhing lazily together. He spoke to me with his hands and his mouth and the slip and glide of skin against skin until at last we broke the surface again, breathless and laughing.

"As nice as it was for Brian to make sure we awakened warm, I think it's time we got out of this tub, _chaton_." He said, eeling from under me and rising gracefully to his feet. I didn't answer, enchanted as I was with the vision of water sluicing down the lines and planes of his body. He stepped over the rim of the tub and I admired the play of muscles in his legs and ass. He shook his head briskly, sending a glinting shower of water everywhere. He reached for the white bath towels placed on the marble sink and his hand paused, hovering. There were scratches in the marble, souvenirs of an especially strenuous weekend some time ago. Lestat ran his hand over the scratches and when he turned to me his eyes were smoky and avid.

"I remember." I told him softly, as I rose from the tub. I went to him and his mouth was rougher this time, his hands possessive.

"Perhaps an encore, _mon amour_?" he murmured. I bit his lip sharply, eliciting a gasp.

"I'll keep the thought in mind, darling." I told him. He chuckled, shaking his head as he reached again for one of the towels. I leaned forward and he began rubbing my wet hair. "After all, Lestat,you know that's my call do you not?"

He took a step toward me, dropping the towel to the floor. I stood up straight and stepped back, raising my lips in a show of fangs. His answer was a soft growl.

"Your call," he said at last, caressing himself once and then again. "And if you tell me right now that anticipation is its own reward, I might just have to forget that I'm supposed to meet with the caterers."

I watched him, aroused mightily by the sound of leashed passion in his voice. After a moment to collect myself, I stepped toward him again and cupped him reverently in my hand, loving how he arched to me.

"You know that it will be, Lestat." I whispered, "You know it."

Next: Distractions


	5. Distractions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The perks of working for vampires; meeting with the caterer; more perks.

**~Lestat~**

 

He squeezed between my tensed thighs gently and then let go, disappearing into the dressing room. He was humming under his breath.

I took a moment to collect myself, leaning against the wall and listening to him in the other room, deciphering the sounds. Soft humming and the whisper of Egyptian cotton on his skin as he dried himself. No other sounds, but I could easily picture him moving about on soundless feet. The rub of the towel was gone and his humming ceased.

I looked again at the scored marble, licking my lips. It had been his call that night and the night that followed it and as he said, it would be his call should we venture down that particular path again. I looked into the mirror, searching for the ghosts of that night. Nothing in the mirror save my own wide eyed self and the scratched marble under my palm. I murmured his name.

When I shook myself from my reverie and went in search of him, he'd already vacated the bedroom. He was speaking to Brian in the office and I resigned myself to getting dressed, selecting trousers tailored in chamois, dyed a red so deep it may as well have been black. They were a nice, snug fit and they felt deliciously soft against the skin, also holding a curious warmth. A simply cut shirt of dove grey silk and black boots.

"There you are, Lestat." Louis said when I entered the room, His eyes traveled me hungrily and I resisted the urge to preen for him. Brian seemed to be holding himself up by leaning against the desk. "I was just saying that I heard from Santino. He will be attending with a guest."

"When did he call?" I asked casually.

"Last night. You were out and so was Brian. Upon your return the call was driven from my mind with one thing and another." He smiled guilelessly.

"Who is he bringing?" I asked, though at the moment I was much more interested in the vision of Louis in snug black trousers than with Santino's nebulous guest.

"Someone named William."

"Will they be staying next door?" Brian asked. In spite of the fog of urgent pheromones he was bathed in he was doing his level best to keep things on track. Several of our guests would be staying on Royal Street with us; we owned the buildings on either side of 1127 to ensure our privacy and it had been Brian's idea to put some of the space to use. 1125 was as elegantly appointed as our own flat was and completely habitable. He'd gotten the cleaning service in to dust and to change the bedding and air out the rooms.

"No. He mentioned the Windsor."

"William?"

Louis looked up from the folder on the desk.

"Yes. A mortal, I believe, though Santino did not mention it. Just a feeling I got."

I was becoming intrigued.

"Are you going to make me drag it out of you, Louis?"

"When has anyone ever made you do anything, my mercurial love?"

His voice was light but there was no mistaking the seductive note I heard there. Let the games begin.

"Come now. Don't try to distract me, Louis. What did Santino say on the phone?"

He slithered into the large office chair, rolling it so that he could get a better look at me.

"Just that he would be attending and that he was bringing this William Allen as his guest."

His white hand lay negligently on his thigh, fingers curled slightly and for some reason this struck me as entirely provocative. Brian watched us with undisguised fascination, clearly having picked up on the undercurrents.

"You don't know who his guest is?" Brian asked. Immediately after the words left his lips he looked comically confused, as though he had not been aware he was going to speak.

"It's been years since we have seen Santino." Louis said. His thumb was moving, slowly stroking the seam on his inner thigh. " I got the idea that William was mortal when I was speaking to Santino. I heard a distinct sigh--one might call it a moan--in the background as we conversed." He shrugged eloquently. "The sound seemed mortal to me. That's all. You see Lestat? No dragging."

He dragged his fingers upward, and I could see the furrows in the fabric. The doorbell chimed and Brian started.

"I'll get that." he said, recovering with admirable agility. He grinned suddenly at me. "Try and keep your clothes on for another ten minutes or so, yeah?"

He disappeared from the room and descended the stairs, his feet beating out a rapid staccato as he went. Louis rose from the chair and came to me, twining his arms around my neck and kissing me with languid heat.

"I think we shall stay clothed all evening, 'Stat." he said into my ear. "You look delectable in those trousers. Perhaps a walk later so that I may indulge in the sight?"

I was quite undone with lust and he pulled away from me before I had the wit to form an answer. Brian and the caterer were coming up the stairs, talking animatedly--or I should say the caterer was talking animatedly. Brian had spoken to him several times on the telephone and mentioned that he was a bit over the top but that he was the best at what he did. I'd forgotten what his name was. At the moment, with Louis' warm purring in my ear, I was having some trouble remembering my own name.

"His name is Joel." Louis whispered into my ear. As usual he'd known what I was thinking. He gave me a sensuous little lick behind the ear and went around the desk to open the doors to the narrow balcony outside the office. Brian entered the room with Joel.

Brian towered over him, using his size to keep the man moving, practically herding him into the room. His face was the picture of amused exasperation and when his eyes met mine, I could see that he was struggling with laughter. Joel-the-caterer noticed nothing of this, as he commented extravagantly about the elegance of our flat, the fine oak banister , the silk wallpaper.

Joel was a diminutive little man, strikingly handsome in a craggy sort of way. He had a shock of silver hair and wore an expensively tailored suit. His dark eyes were warm and, dare I say it?--merry, as he advanced toward me with his hand extended. I resisted the urge to lean forward as he took my hand in both of his small ones.

"Monsieur de Lioncourt!" he said, setting his briefcase down. "How very pleased I am to make your acquaintance! I am Joel Catigny." He sounded completely and utterly sincere. His small hands were smooth and dry and he smelled pleasantly of bay rum.

"The pleasure is all mine." I heard myself say. Louis materialized at my side and Joel reached for his hand. Louis offered it graciously and his face was sober and attentive when I glanced at him. Brian stood back taking in the entire scene, his blue eyes dancing.

"And Monsieur Pointe du Lac. _Enchanté_."

He made a little bow as he took Louis' hand and I was amused to see Louis unconsciously return it, much as he would have when such things were done among gentlemen centuries ago.

"I am pleased to meet you." Louis said gravely.

Joel's accent was native Parisian if I was any judge.

"May I just say, _Messieurs_ , that your home is _très magnifique_? So tastefully appointed."

" _Merci_." Louis said. He was seemingly quite caught up in Monsieur's formal way of speaking, perhaps because most people now do not express themselves so.

"Monsieur Callahan has visited me at my kitchens and approved the foods that you have requested for the reveillon. I would have brought you samples but I am assured that this is not necessary?"

He seemed distressed, suddenly.

"I have absolute faith in Brian's taste, Monsieur Catigny." I told him. "Won't you sit down?"

Louis gestured toward the chairs by the fireplace in the corner. Joel nodded and sat down, placing his case carefully on the table between the two chairs. Louis nodded to me to sit in the other chair and he sidled back to stand near the desk with Brian. Joel handed me a small sheaf of papers.

"The menu is on the top, the arrangements for the decorations that you requested are beneath. We will take care of everything, including clean up and removal of the decorations after the holidays."

I nodded, looking over the arrangement. He handed me the quote and I nodded.

"Very well. As I said, I trust Mr. Callahan's judgment in all such matters." I set the contract down on the corner of the table and took the pen he offered me, scrawling my name with a flourish. "Now, then. Perhaps a drink, Monsieur, to seal the contract properly?" I asked, handing him the contract and the pen.

He smiled graciously. I liked this man and his continental manners.

"Merci, Monsieur. I would enjoy that."

 

 **Further Distractions**

-Louis-

 

As Lestat graciously saw Monsieur Catigny to the door, I steered Brian into the parlour.

"It was most kind of you to fill the tub with hot water before, Brian." I told him, listening with half an ear to Lestat.

Brian shrugged, grinning.

"Did you enjoy the view?" I asked, looking sideways at him.

"It was a little freaky when I noticed Lestat had opened his eyes. Once I realized he probably wasn't going to kill me, it was all good." He was staring into the far corner of the room. "You know, I think the tree should go over there this year. There'll be more room for the guests to move about and it will still be a focal point."

I ignored his nattering about the tree and the party. It would all come together as he and Lestat had planned; such details meant little to me. I was more interested in his observation about Lestat. "Lestat's eyes were open?" I said. Something in my voice must have got his attention, for he was immediately intent.

"Not when I first went in, at least I don't think they were. The water was cold so I opened the drain, thinking to fill it with hot water. I looked at him and I could see his eyes. Gave me a start. I haven't seen him do that..." Brian ducked his head down for a moment, but then looked back up, to continue. "Haven't seen him do that since you were gone for those few weeks a couple years back." he finished. "Anyway, once the hot water began filling, he closed his eyes again and so I felt like it was alright."

"Did you feel anything before that?" I asked him curiously.

"What?"

He seemed surprised.

"Not us." I said impatiently. "You said it gave you a start to see his eyes open. Why? Did you feel something?"

He looked at me, head cocked, blue eyes narrowed slightly as he thought about it.

"I don't know if I felt anything or if it was just inference, you know, his eyes open. Watchfulness. It scared me a little." he said honestly.

"What scared you?"

Lestat had come up behind me, his arms slipping around my waist, hands locking around my middle, I leaned back against him, inhaling blissfully as Brian patiently explained it again.

"You worry too much." Lestat told him. "I know you come near us often in the day. Your scent is completely familiar to both of us, so why would you be worried at this point?"

"Oh, I don't know." Brian said. "Might have been those laser beam eyes of yours, open when they usually are not. Excuse me, Lestat, but you don't know how it looks from my end of the food chain."

Lestat laughed delightedly. "I don't think it bothers you that much, _cher_. After all, it does not stop you taking the diurnal peek, now does it? And never mind about putting the candles out, good excuse though it is."

Brian smiled at him, unabashedly worshipful. Which is as it should be.

"Now, enough of all that. Have you found someone to escort to this soirée, Brian?"

"Matter of fact, yeah." Brian said.

Lestat pulled me backward with him. He sat down on the divan and held me tight on his lap. I gave a suggestive little wiggle and smiled to myself at his contented, soft purr.

"Anyone we know?"

"You do. One of New Orleans' finest." Brian said. He and John Chaisson had become quite close since Katrina. They'd been friendly before, sharing a physical relationship that suited them both well enough, but they'd weathered some rather intense experiences during the dark days following the storm.

"Ah. Officer Chaisson, yes?

"Yes." He said, smiling. "Now...I have things to do, so if it's okay with you, I'll be on my way."

Pretty smooth exit for Brian...or it would have been.

"Check the fridge on your way to your place." Lestat told him. Brian froze for a moment, poised in the doorway of the parlour.

"Thank you." he said softly.

Next: Arrivals and Mingling


	6. Arrivals and Mingling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The guests arrive at the party--observations and conversation.

**~Simone Debreuil and Jeanette Reynolds~**

"Oh, Simone! Such a beautiful dress!"

Jeanette entered the elegant parlour where Simone waited for her. They planned to go next door together to join their hosts for a little pre-party chat and eggnog. In the several days they had spent in the exquisitely appointed flat next door to the Lioncourt-Pointe du Lac residence, the two women had become friends.

" _Merci, chérie_. A lovely wrapping for me, _oui_? The trick is to draw the eye to the dress in my case!" The dress in question was custom made for Simone's tiny frame. The muted green taffeta overlaid with black lace sleeves came off as understated elegance on her. She was a small woman but she had learned early on that if you carried yourself regally, people saw you that way. She laughed her rusty laugh and took Jeanette's offered hand, rising to her feet. "But you are a vision, Jeanette."

Simone spoke the truth. Jeanette wore a simple sheath of deep merlot silk that accentuated her creamy skin to perfection. She'd swept her long, dark hair up into a loose chignon held in place with pins that sparkled with tiny cut crystals. Her jewelry was simple; garnet drop earrings, narrow silver rings on her fingers and a delicate silver bracelet studded with tiny garnet cabochons.

"Shall we?"

They gathered their wraps and Simone took Jeanette's arm, carefully descending the staircase with her.

"Brian said that we should walk down the carriageway to the courtyard, rather than go from the back gallery. I understand that Lestat went all out in with the decorating." Jeanette said.

Indeed, Brian had asked that they refrain from peeking into the courtyard during the day so as not to spoil the surprise for that evening. The secrecy lent a great deal to the anticipation.

"Lestat has extravagant tastes." Simone said, chuckling. She felt good, the bite of arthritis barely noticeable. Her afternoon nap as well as her anticipation had lent her a store of high energy. "I must admit that I am very excited for this evening."

Jeanette smiled.

"I know exactly what you mean." she said. She was looking forward to a little time with Louis and his irrepressible lover before the other guests arrived. She'd spent a delightful afternoon with Brian and John touring the French Quarter, taking dozens of photographs and she had thoroughly enjoyed herself. The day had been balmy and warm, a perfect lead in to the party.

Stepping out onto the street, Jeanette closed the door behind them and they advanced beneath the colonnade. Beyond, there stood a young man dressed in elegant Victorian dress, holding aloft a lantern.

"Good evening, ladies and welcome." he said. He opened the gate, garlanded with fresh balsam, smilax, lady apples and gardenias. They entered the carriageway.

"Ah! Lovely!" Simone exclaimed.

Lanterns glowed from the niches in the worn brick and the high walls were draped with more garlands, decorated with fruit and magnolia leaves and tiny, glowing rice lights. A sextet of carolers stood near to the arched door that led to the courtyard garden. The pathway was lined with enclosed candles and they followed this to the patio behind the house.

"Lestat." Louis said, moving forward and bowing slightly from the hips. "Our first guests have arrived."

Louis took Simone's hand gently in his and raised it to his lips.

" _Bonsoir, Madame. Joyeux Noel_."

" _Bonjour, mon bel Louis_." Simone said, taking Louis' face in her two hands and pulling him down so that she could bestow a kiss upon either cheek.

"And what of me, Simone my darling?" Lestat asked. He swept her into a careful embrace, lifting her off her feet. She laughed delightedly.

"Beautiful boy! Put me down immediately!"

Lestat, of course, did no such thing, dancing with her for a long moment as though she were a child.

"You must forgo your dignity, I'm afraid." he told her, setting her on her feet at last. "Have I said how pleased I am that you are here, Simone?"

"Many times, you flatterer. Come now. After all that, a lady needs a bit of fortification."

"Indeed, yes. But a moment. I have not yet greeted Mademoiselle Reynolds."

Lestat tucked Simone's hand in the crook of his arm and advanced to where Jeanette stood beside Louis, watching the scene with great amusement.

"Good evening, Jeanette." Lestat said, reaching for her hand with his free one. He squeezed it gently. "You look stunning, _chérie_."

"Thank you. You clean up pretty good yourself."

He smiled, pleased at her answer. "So I am told. May I bring you a glass of wine? Or perhaps a cocktail?"

"Red wine would be lovely, thank you."

Lestat nodded and with a brush of his lips on Louis' cheek, he led Simone up the illuminated gravel path toward the fountain. They began a conversation in French, their voices animated as they sauntered off leaving Louis and Jeanette alone.

"He can be rather overwhelming." Louis said, turning to look at Jeanette.

"I've noticed that." Jeanette said. The surrounding gardens were lovely, but Jeanette could look only at Louis' face. She had forgotten the full impact of his presence, how unearthly he looked. She had a photograph of him in her living room, among others of her family, but it did not convey just how affecting it was to be near him. He looked no different than he had the first time she had seen him when she was child.

"Are you enjoying New Orleans?" Louis asked her.

"More than I imagined I would. Brian and his friend took me for the grand tour and I had the most decadent lunch. I have no idea why I've never come here before. "

She did, though. Somehow the idea of coming here, to this city, had been daunting to her. As though seeing the place that Louis lived with Lestat would change things or make him seem different to her. She had seen him exactly twelve times during her lifetime and each time it had been in a time of need or pain.

Louis took her hand and tucked it in the crook of his arm, leading her in the direction that Lestat and Simone had walked.

"We were pleased when you accepted our invitation. I think you will find the mix of guests entertaining. I apologize for having spent so little time with you."

"Oh, well, I'm sure you and Lestat were kept busy with the party plans. It looks absolutely amazing out here. You have made such a beautiful home for yourselves."

They rounded the fountain and ahead Jeanette saw a small dwelling with a flagged patio before it. Several tables laden with food and drink were placed about the perimeter of the small space. Flaring torches and tall candelabra provided the light and in one corner there was a free standing chimnea with a cheerful fire within.

"Join us!" Lestat said. He handed Jeanette her glass of wine.

 

 **~Mingling~**

 

Perry stood at the bar set near the little fireplace, waiting for the bartender to finish mixing her drink. As she had expected, there was a fairly diverse mix of people and she found it most interesting to stand and watch them as they shifted and mingled. It was like watching an intricate dance.

"It is somewhat like a dance. I wonder why you are not participating."

Perry turned and smiled.

"I'm taking a read on everyone first."

"You know several of the guests." Lestat pointed out. He took her drink from the bartender and handed it to her.

"Except for Amanda, they're people I work for. I'm watching them closest of all." She took a sip of her drink. "It looks like Mrs. Gibeault has her hooks in Louis already."

"So she has." Lestat agreed. "A healthy specimen, isn't she?"

Off by the fountain, the buxom Kirsten did indeed have her long, perfectly manicured nails trailing down the arm of Louis' elegant jacket.

"They're fake." Perry told him sotto voce.

Lestat leaned sideways to answer her in kind.

"Which? The nails or the breasts?"

The remark took her by surprise and she laughed out loud.

"I hadn't thought you'd noticed such things." she said, swirling her drink and taking another sip.

"There's a lot you don't know about me, I think." Lestat told her with a wink. "Come with me, pretty one. Here is someone you have not met yet."

 **~~~~~**

"So...you're a business associate of the hosts?" William asked Gerry. Santino was across the courtyard engrossed in conversation with a striking dark-haired woman and William had been watching that interaction curiously.

"They are clients of the law firm I work for." Gerry affirmed. His eye was taken from Monsieur de Lioncourt for the first time that evening when William Allen had come over and introduced himself.

"And perhaps a little more than that?" William said shrewdly. He smiled winningly at Gerry. The lawyer shrugged.

"Things happen." he said with a little half-smile.

"You look like you'd like it to happen again."

Gerry's gaze flicked back to Lestat, walking with Perry on his arm toward Santino and the woman he was talking to.

"Let's just say I wouldn't turn him down."

"Couldn't, more like." William smirked. He nudged Gerry. "I could use another drink. You?"

 

 **~~~~~**

 

This is such a beautiful garden!" Kirsten gushed. She had her hand securely around Louis' arm, just above the elbow. "I've told Glaise I would love to have a place here in the Quarter."

Louis was doing his level best not to breathe, for the combination of her lavishly applied perfume, whatever she used in her hair, and the mingled odors of shrimp, vodka and tobacco on her breath were overpoweringly strong in his sensitive nose.

"It has its ups and downs." Louis said. Kirsten reached around him to the table where her drink sat. Her breasts pushed against his chest briefly and then she straightened up, taking a little sip of her cocktail. He looked down at her--the sheer expanse of the rounded globes was a bit hard to ignore and Louis wondered just when they would finally break free of the scant restraint her tiny dress had upon them. They seemed to swell further under his gaze.

"Who did the flowers? The arrangements are gorgeous."

"You would have to ask Brian about that, I'm afraid." The small talk was beginning to annoy him in a formless sort of way. He wondered idly what her dress would look like splashed with crimson.

Louis smiled at her and she melted a little more. Beyond her he spied Lestat standing by the bar, turning the force of his considerable charm on Persephone and near them was the redoubtable Glaise Gibeault ogling Amanda. Persephone laid her small hand on Lestat's arm and Louis' heart pumped a little faster, watching him lean to her to whisper some little remark that made her laugh.

 

 **~~~~~**

 

"You are well versed in Florentine Art." Santino said, impressed in spite of himself.

Jeanette smiled at him. Santino had a regal bearing and his face was arresting; a full, sensuous mouth and dark, fathomless eyes. His dark hair was thick and wavy and his chest seemed to strain against the fabric of his finely tailored Italian suit. His presence was palpable, like storm clouds.

"I minored in Art History in college." she confided. "A passion of mine. I spent a year in Italy, the whole 'finding your roots' thing, you know."

"And did you find your roots?"

"I already knew them really, but I wanted to see where my family was from."

"And where is that?"

Santino gazed at her, careful not to turn the full force of his stare upon her. He thought perhaps that even if he had, she would not be discomfited. She had a direct, forthright manner about her that he found refreshing.

"Genoa." She said. "I stayed there for several weeks and I even unearthed a few relatives from family that never left Italy. I knew of the line, but not if they were still in Genoa."

Studying her, Santino could see the clear evidence of Italian forbears. She had light skin as many Genoese did and her dark hair was thick and beautiful, very long though she wore it up, baring her neck to great advantage. Her eyes were nearly as dark as his own. When Louis had introduced Jeanette earlier, he had wondered about her, what Louis had deemed special about her. He was beginning to see it, now, speaking with her. He had thought earlier that he would have passed her on the street without a second glance.

"And after Genoa, where did you go?" His questions were polite, nothing more. He made no effort to read her thoughts, preferring to rely on her words and her personality to give him his impressions.

"Rome for a while. The Eternal City. A filthy place, but I loved it. I spent a month on Capri and then I went to Florence. I stayed in Florence for four months and most of it I spent photographing the architecture and haunting the art museums. Spent a little time in Venice after that but then it was back to real life."

She hesitated a brief moment and then looked into his deep eyes. "I wonder if I might photograph you sometime." she said.

"After the architecture of Florence, you would photograph me?" Santino said, laughing. "How flattering."

She smiled back, swirling the wine in her glass. "I'm interested to see if I would be able to capture your presence on film. I take pictures for a living…and I love a challenge."

"It would be my pleasure." Santino said.

 

 **~Arrivals~**

 

"I wonder what it costs for them to rent that much space in the Quarter just for parking." Tom Fournier said. The garage was only two blocks from the townhouse.

"Well don't go and ask about it, Tom. What does it matter?" Patrice said. She disliked being late for anything. He gave her a dangerous look, but didn't say anything.

"We should cross the street here, Daddy—it's just there." Julia said, pointing. She was tremendously excited. "Look at the man with the lantern, Chantelle!"

They crossed the street and the man with the lantern directed them down the carriageway.

"They really pulled out the stops, didn't they?" Tom said, impressed in spite of himself.

Julia and Chantelle stood by the open door to the courtyard, listening to the carolers. Out of sight, they heard Lestat's voice.

"Mademoiselle Julia! You have arrived at last!" Chantelle and Julia passed through the door and when he and Patrice got there, it was in time to see Lestat down on one knee, accepting an enthusiastic hug and a kiss on the cheek from Julia. She let go of him and he rose to greet Chantelle cordially before turning to the Fourniers.

"How wonderful to see you again, Patrice." Lestat said warmly, taking her hand for a moment in both of his. "And Tom. You look well." He reached and shook Tom's hand.

"Thank you for having us." Patrice said. "Julia has spoken of nothing for weeks."

"Where is Uncle Louis?" Julia asked, craning to look around the courtyard.

"Perhaps you'd like to go and look for him? He was near Brian's house the last time I saw him. "

"May I?" she asked, looking at her mother.

"Yes, of course." Patrice said. "Don't leave the courtyard without saying something to one of us, though."

"Yes, mom." Julia said dutifully. She grinned at Lestat and went down the path toward Brian's house at the back of the courtyard. "A drink, perhaps?" Lestat asked after he'd watched her for a moment.

"You called that tune, Buddy." Tom said, brushing past him to where he saw the bar setup. Lestat showed no sign that he'd noticed the slight, merely indicating to the ladies that they should precede him.

 

Next: More mingling


	7. Mingling, Conversation and The Dawn's Early Light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pretty much what the title of the chapter says!

**~Mingling~**

Julia was no stranger to well-dressed people and beautiful surroundings, though these were not things that she thought of in any conscious way. Some of adults around her stopped in their conversations to exclaim over her dress or her hair and to murmur to one another how darling she was. These things also passed her conscious thought with little affect for they were things she'd heard before and she was old enough now to understand that most adults seemed to think that children were nothing more than ornaments or annoyances. Passing beneath their radar was something she had become adept at.

Tonight felt different to Julia, in spite of the few that viewed her as an ornament. Tonight she felt included and the night was magical because of it. She saw Brian, standing with a tall man and a very small old lady and the butterflies that circled her stomach settled a bit. Beyond where they stood she saw Louis. He was speaking to a woman wearing what Julia thought of in a vague way as a 'sexy dress'. She lingered near the fountain, hesitant to approach them and after a moment she sat down on one of the stone benches. The first time she'd ever come out here her feet did not reach the ground when she sat on the bench—now her toes touched the gravel and she smiled a little to herself.

A man — a waiter she realized, approached her and asked her if he might bring her something to drink—some punch perhaps, or a Coke? She smiled at him and asked for a glass of punch and when he left she turned to look for Louis again. She was a little embarrassed now at how she'd thought he was an angel the first time she'd ever seen him but something in her still insisted that he might be. He caught her eye just then, over the sexy lady's shoulder and he smiled at her. The butterflies in her stomach took flight again.

"Hi Julia."

She jumped the tiniest bit and looked up. It was Brian, standing near the bench with a glass in his hand.

"Hi Brian. You scared me."

"Sorry." he said. " I saw the waiter coming your way and I thought I'd bring you your drink." He sat down beside her and offered her the glass.

"Thank you." She took a sip of the punch and fished the cherry out, popping it into her mouth.

"Feeling a little shy?" he asked. She wrinkled her nose a little and then shook her head.

"No." She said in her forthright way. "I'm waiting for Louis to be finished talking to that lady."

"I think he's almost done talking to her. " Brian said. She heard a smile in his voice. "Come on. He's been waiting for you, you know."

"I can wait 'till he's finished." Julia said. "She won't like it if I just walk over there."

Brian merely nodded. He'd gotten to know Julia over the past two years and her telling little remark didn't throw him, even coming from someone as young as she was. He was no stranger to cryptic or telling remarks by any means, but when he'd first gotten to know her, some of the things that she would say had been disconcerting.

"How about we get something to eat while we're waiting?" Brian suggested.

"Okay. " She stood up and they went together toward the buffet.

 

****

-Lestat-

 

I'd gone inside to take a phone call—cell phones are very convenient things to be sure, but I detest the ill manners that their prevalence has engendered, most especially the casual insult of taking a call in the midst of a social situation. The phone had vibrated against my thigh several times before I managed to excuse myself politely. When I finished, I tossed the phone onto the table in the front foyer. If anyone else needed me, it would have to wait.

Just as I was about to return to the party I heard someone coming from the kitchen. It was William, sauntering toward me with studied calm. I'd known he was going to approach me sooner or later—his intent had already been displayed with no pretense toward subtlety. Why he should choose to display his interest so obviously before Santino was also clear; William wished to goad Santino into some reaction.

"Nice party." he said, looking me up and down. He was quite beautiful this William, and he had a petulant, demanding air which should have been annoying but somehow wasn't. I expected there must be something more to the boy beyond his looks that had intrigued Santino.

"Everyone seems to be enjoying themselves." I agreed. "Are you looking for something in particular?"

"I was looking for you." he said.

"Were you? Well, I have been outside all this time, haven't I? Still, you approach me where we are unobserved." I smiled widely at him and he flushed, a response he was unable to control.

"I was hoping to find you alone at some point." he said in a low and intimate tone. He approached me and raised a hand to my cheek.

"Ah. You'd like to tear off a piece, as they say? Or perhaps you would like me to do the tearing?"

"Either or." he said frankly. "Although that wasn't what I had in mind—I know you're the host of this little shindig, after all. It would be rude to hog all your attention. No---I thought maybe you'd like a little something to drink since the wine doesn't suit you."

"And you would suit me?"

"Won't know till you try."

He snaked an arm about my waist and pressed himself against me. I couldn't help it; I began to laugh. At first he smiled at me uncertainly, but when I was unable to stifle my mirth he became offended and stepped back, glaring.

"Forgive me." I said, after I managed to get a lid on my laughter at last. "I suppose I should appreciate the offer, but I can't help but wonder about the spirit in which it was given me. It isn't a usual Christmas gift, after all. Has Santino upset you? Or perhaps you thought to get a rise out of him? Or is it…" I took a step toward him, sniffing delicately. "That he takes but he does not give?" William's full lips were compressed into a thin, white line and he turned on his heel to walk out.

"Have I insulted you? I hope not. What sort of host would that make me? Turn around, if you please." He did so with reluctance and I took his face between my two hands. "You are a beautiful young man to be sure, but you haven't an ounce of manners—it's quite unattractive." I applied a little pressure and his eyes widened. "Are you paying attention, sweet bunny? Shh. Don't try to speak, just nod. Are you listening?" he nodded, his eyes wide. "Good. Here's the thing—you are a guest in my home. You have arrived with one of the few vampires left on earth that has no overt reason to want to kill either Louis or myself and with whom we both get along with rather well, so I am afraid I shall have to decline your offer." I licked the side of his face and released him.

"Now, then. We should get back to the thick of it, hmm?"

 

****

-Overheard--

 

"Don't I know you from somewhere?" Gibeault asked as he accepted another drink from the bartender. He was speaking to a strongly built man with an evident air of natural authority.

"I'm a cop." John said. "Passed me in the courthouse a time or two, I guess. John Chaisson." He offered his hand. He knew very well who Glaise Gibeault was.

Gibeault shook hands with him. "Let me guess. This is your district?"

"Nine years now." John said.

"And how do you know our hosts?"

"John is here tonight with Brian." Louis said from behind them. "And he has been an attentive friend and protector to us these many years. Glaise—my compliments to you on your engaging wife. What happened to the other one?"

Glaise blinked and dark color stained his neck. "Divorced." he said tersely. John turned his head, red-faced from holding back laughter.

"Ah." Louis said, nodding. "Irreconcilable differences, I imagine." His eyes flicked past John's shoulder. "Here is someone you have not met. Santino--meet John Chaisson, one of New Orleans' finest and Glaise Gibeault, our attorney."

"How very nice to make your acquaintance." Santino said pleasantly. Chaisson nodded, and Louis noted that he kept his equanimity quite well considering the fact that he realized immediately that Santino was a vampire. Gibeault's face betrayed him somewhat but he also recovered fairly quickly and Louis thought, as he had on other occasions, that he could sometimes understand Lestat's continued fascination with mortals.

For his part, Santino was slightly taken aback at how many of the guests were aware of the nature of their hosts and consequently his own nature. It added some indefinable enjoyment to the gathering that he could not quite put his finger on. It wasn't like the taking of a mortal lover, something that had been done many times among their kind—this was unique.

"Santino." Gibeault said, uncomfortable with the somewhat prolonged silence. "Italian or Spanish?"

"Italian." Santino said. "It's been some time since I lived there, however. My home is in Los Angeles for the moment."

"If you will excuse me, "Louis said, shuddering at the thought of more small talk, "There is a young lady waiting for me. "

 

****

-Louis--

 

As such things go, I supposed that this party of ours was going rather well--at least people seemed to be enjoying themselves for the most part. There were a few exceptions—Mr. William Allen by the looks of it, emerging just now from the kitchen door with storm clouds on his brow. And where was Lestat? Why, moments behind him with a lovely cat that ate the canary look on his face. I caught his eye and he gave me an insouciant wink. Moments later he was engulfed by the charms of Kirsten Gibeault. And such a gentleman, my Lestat—he immediately gave her his full attention, no doubt as amazed by the sight of her prodigious bosom as I had been.

I continued on to the center of the courtyard and there I found Julia sitting with Brian near the fountain. She spied me beyond his shoulder.

"Louis!"

Brian sensibly took the glass she held in her hand and it gave her a moment to collect herself. I didn't lift her up as I had done when she was younger; she had grown several inches and she was old enough now to feel that she was no longer 'a baby'. Instead, I gave her a warm hug and kissed both her cheeks.

" _Joyeux Noël_ , Julia. "

She rubbed her nose against mine. " _Joyeux Noël_ , Louis. Thank you for inviting us."

"It would not have been the same without you. Have you had anything to eat?"

"Yes, I had some shrimp and a bowl of gumbo with Brian while I was waiting for you."

"If we can get Lestat's attention, I would like to bring you upstairs to see the Christmas tree. I believe Papa Noël has left something here for you. He knows that you come to visit occasionally."

"I brought a Christmas present for you, too." she said with a little wriggle of anticipation. She put her small hand in mine. "Chantelle left it on the glass table on the patio."

 

****

~Overheard~-

 

"I love Atlanta!" Patrice said. "I even thought I might move there—then I met Tom just after I graduated from LSU—a sort of swept me off my feet thing, you know?" Patrice managed to sound both nostalgic and defensive at the same time. "Were you born there?"

"Well, nearby. My family lives in Alpharetta. We have roots in New Orleans." Jeannette cast a significant look toward Louis.

"Are you related to Louis?" Patrice asked.

"Pat-what are you doing?"

Patrice whirled around with what Jeannette interpreted as a guilty expression. She couldn't imagine why; their conversation had been fairly innocuous. She looked curiously at the man who had interrupted them.

"Tom Fournier." he said by way of introduction. "I apologize for my wife. She has no head for alcohol!" His bluff manner was underscored with a sort of malicious glee that Jeannette recognized and did not like. She decided to ignore him.

"Distantly, from what he tells me." Jeannette said, returning to their interrupted conversation. "Though I'm not exactly sure how."

"That's interesting." Tom said, not at all put off by Jeannette's coolness. "We're not exactly sure how he's related to Pat, either." He swirled the ice in his drink and looked expectantly at them both.

 

**~~~~~**

 

"Do you like it?" Julia's voice was tinged with expectant anxiousness. Louis examined the framed drawing he'd just unwrapped. It was a pencil sketch done with bold, confident strokes—a drawing of Lestat and himself, childishly rendered but arresting for all of that. There was something in the glance they shared in the drawing, a warmth that she had caught with her pencil. Lestat had encouraged her to take art lessons and the guidance showed in her work. She had only needed someone to show her technique; the rest was innate talent.

"I like it very much indeed." Louis said with perfect sincerity. "You have given me something I will treasure always." He leaned forward and rubbed her nose with his.

Julia beamed with pleasure. "Chantelle took me to have it framed. The man at the shop let me watch him do it. I think I could do it myself the next time."

 

Before Louis could answer Lestat joined them, having managed to part ways with Mrs. Gibeault. He looked at the drawing over Louis' shoulder. "Comment merveilleux, ma chérie !" Lestat exclaimed. He went down on one knee and gathered her into a warm hug, burying his nose in her soft hair for a long moment.

 

**~~~~~**

 

"Lestat is quite fond of you." Simone said. "He told me about you after you arrived. You are a student, yes?"

"Yes, at Tulane. I work nights at the coffee shop down the street. That's where I first met them. Are you enjoying New Orleans?" Amanda said.

"Oh, yes. I have been here before, but it has been quite some time. Before you were born I think!" Simone laughed. "A lot has changed, but there are things that have remained the same. Amanda followed Simone's glance and saw that Simone was watching Lestat and Louis. She smiled.

"I know what you mean." she said softly.

 

**~~~~~**

 

"Photograph you. Yeah, right." William said.

"And to think you accused me of jealousy earlier." Santino said. William gave him a venomous look—the look faded when William stepped closer to him. It disappeared when he listened to what Santino said into his ear. He leaned his head against Santino's shoulder briefly.

"So. We are ready to leave, caro?"

William licked his lips and nodded.

 

**~~~~~**

 

"I'm going to give Chantelle and Julia a lift home." Perry said." They had planned to take the streetcar, but the kitten complicates that a little bit." She grinned at Louis.

"That is most kind of you. Did you enjoy yourself tonight?"

"It was lovely. The food—the company—I had a wonderful time." She extended her hand and he took it both of his.

"You will be spending tomorrow with your family?"

She nodded. "Big meal, presents, the works. My grandmother invited Brian and John along, too. "

"He told us. That was most considerate of her. I wonder if I might ask you to come here one evening this week? There is something I would like to give you, though it isn't easily wrapped."

Perry raised an eyebrow, her curiosity piqued.

"Don't even try to get him to tell you what it is." Brian said from behind Louis.

"I wouldn't dream of it." Perry said.

Louis smiled his enigmatic, beautiful smile. "Why would I tell her? That would spoil the surprise."

 

**~~~~~**

 

"You seem to have gotten on well with William." Lestat said. He stood very close, idly running his fingers down Gerry's sleeve.

"Just talking. You know." Gerry said. He fingered the napkin William had slipped to him a few minutes earlier. "I thought since his day would be free tomorrow, I'd take him somewhere to eat.

"Yes? Well, I'm sure he'll enjoy that too." Lestat smiled widely. "I think I may have underestimated you all this time—you have a taste for the razor's edge after all, hmm?"

"What do you mean?" Gerry asked.

"You do realize such a dalliance might not be to Santino's taste? Even if it takes place during the day."

"It's lunch. He's got to eat, after all." Gerry said. He looked at Lestat curiously. "Is he the jealous sort?"

"I'm sure I don't know. Just a friendly word of caution."

"Well, thanks." Gerry said. He looked pleased.

 

**~~~~~**

 

"You aren't going anywhere." Brian said. "We're going out to Darrow in the afternoon and anyway, you're not in any condition to drive."

"Twist my arm a little more, why doncha." John said, grinning.

 

 

****

The Dawn's Early Light

-Louis-

 

"I believe we might call the evening's festivities a success." I said as Lestat snuggled up against me. I pulled the bedclothes up over his shoulders and rubbed my cheek against his hair.

"Agreed." he said, his voice muffled against he flesh of my neck. "All that time, and I have yet to have a drink." He nicked the artery with his fang and suckled for several long moments.

"Did you enjoy yourself?" he asked after a while. His voice was thick and satisfied.

"I did. More than I thought I would. It was good company for the most part."

He chuckled. "Ah, yes. There were some amusing moments."

"Kirsten Gibeault" I said at the same time he said "William—"

He raised his head and we laughed together. I drew him in a little closer. " _Joyeux Noel, mon amour_." I said into his ear

" _Joyeux Noel, mon Louis_ " he echoed.

  
**Fin**


End file.
